A fluffy little tale which I thought up on the spur of the moment. (And because I'm not going to go to all the trouble of writing on Letters... but you didn't her that from me.) I know I haven't put out much, mostly because I've been very very busy with school and such. So maybe the completely heartbreaking feels from this story will make up for the slight hiatus.

A blinding flash of light threw shadows against the walls of a small bedroom. Mere seconds later, a monstrous boom shook the house and rattled the windows. Millions of drops of water pounded on the sidewalk and house, creating the sound of thousands of tiny footsteps dancing on the roof.

A young boy cowered under his bedspread. The thunder was too loud. The lightning was so bright. The raindrops told so many stories of their journeys through the atmosphere, it was hard to get them to finally shut up. The windows screamed as the rain hit them. And every time the thunder beckoned from outside, the boy would scream too. The Storm of the Century, as the boy remembered the weather forecaster had said, was killing him. Everything was too loud and too bright. He hated bright and loud. It hurt his head.

The child slowly began to rock himself back and forth. His curls waved in his eyes. How he hated the storms! The boy began to whimper.

Another wave of thunder sent him out of bed and running down the hallway outside his room. A particularly bright flash of lightning from the open door of the guest room threw him to the floor. He curled into a fetal position as the thunder roared and prayed to the storm to send the East Wind quickly, if that was what the storm was sent to do. Yet another flash of lightning got him up and charging to another room in the hall.

The beat on the closed door as if his life depended upon it. To him, it did. The occupant opened it slightly, and the boy rushed into the room, hiding under the covers of the owner's bed.

The taller boy walked back to his own bed and peeled the covers back. "Sherlock? What on earth-"

Another clap of thunder elicited a scream from the boy. He covered his ears and began to rock back and forth. He was beginning to hyperventilate. "Mycroft, Make it stop! I hate it! I HATE it! Make it stop!" He slowed to a whimper. "Make it stop... Please My... I'm scared." He began to cry.

The older boy looked with pity at his younger brother. It wasn't as if this had never happened before. Whenever there was a storm, Sherlock would always find a way into his room. Usually at the most ungodly hours of the night, as well. Mycroft picked Sherlock up and carried him to a rocking chair waiting patiently at the wall. The three year old continued to weep.

Sherlock spoke slowly, his voice thick with fear. "The East Wind is coming. It's coming for me, My. I just know it. I-" he broke into another sob.

"Hush..." Mycroft gently chided the boy, raising his index finger. "There will be no more of that kind of talk." He sat down. "The East Wind is not coming for you, Sherlock. You have many years yet to live on the earth."

"Promise?"

"Sherlock, as long as I'm here with you, nothing will happen. I promise." Mycroft began to move the rocking chair.

"The raindrops just say so much, My. They hurt my head. I... I don't know how to stop the seeing."

"How about I sing to you, so you don't have to listen to the rain?"

Sherlock buried his face into Mycroft's pyjamas when another flash of light flew across the room. A muffled "OK' was sent up through the fabric.

Mycroft thought for a moment while notes and words formed a lullaby in his head. He gently rubbed circles on Sherlock's back as he began to sing.

Home and safe from the storm

never a worry or fear.

You are safe from all evil

As long as you're with me here.

Times and trials will rain down

Sheol will break loose from the deep

as long as I will be with you

Rest all ye weary and sleep

Never can darkness attack us

Never an evil befall

I will keep you protect you

Defending and giving my all.

Brother,

You're Home and safe from the storm

Should never worry nor fear

Indeed you are safe from all evil

As long as I will be here.

I will always be here.

Mycroft softly ended the song as the storm began to slow, then realized that Sherlock's eyelids were beginning to droop.

Sherlock nestled his head further into Mycroft's chest. "I like it when you sing, My. You sound so... Nice." He closed his eyes.

Mycroft smiled as Sherlock began to snore softly. He slowly twirled a lock of brown hair in his fingers. "Glad you approve, brother mine." His own eyes began to close.

So, what did you think? Any good?

The last week was really hectic, due to the placement testing that I had to deal with. I think I did horribly. In Sherlock's own immortal words- "Because you're an idiot." Anywhos. Once school is done, HOORAY! I will be able to put a lot more effort into stories.

Singing Mycroft was inspired by What's in a Name? by GoldenVine. The storm references were of various sources. The lullaby was my own creation.

I do my own beta work. Please excuse grammatical errors.

All rights to BBC.